


Play me a song.

by swaggyope



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Flowers, Gay, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Love at First Sight, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:54:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28198728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swaggyope/pseuds/swaggyope
Summary: Misery and grace are never meant to be. Yet here we are.
Relationships: Georgenotfound & Dream
Kudos: 1





	Play me a song.

Its almost silent sitting on the splintering oak bench in the dead of night. The cold air eating at the tall dirty blond man who was gifted with beautiful verdant eyes. The pale moonlight dancing down from its place in the sky lit up his face making his soft freckles all the more visable. The man wasn’t what anyone would call majestic. His hair was unkempt and the bags under his eyes gave him a much older look. The best words to describe his looks would be mangy, shoddy, bedraggled, but when you join him on that splintered wooden bench his voice floats through the air as if you had plunged yourself in ambrosial pastries, wrapping you in every syllable with a comforting squeeze and an assuring pat on the back. The man often used his vocal charm to haggle with store owners for his own benefit. It had never failed him until recent.

He recalled the man from earlier, firey orange-brown eyes stared into his own with a ticked off squint. His name tag that was pinned in the fabric of a loose blouse read ‘George.’ The Man felt uncomfortable knowing this strangers name without the stranger knowing his own.  
“George is it?”  
The smaller man flinched at the sudden recognition that he was more then a man behind a counter.  
“Im Dream.” He smiled sweetly.  
“err.. yeah.” George was smaller then most men you’d see around the city. He wore an off-white blouse that he left unbuttoned just enough to let the cool air brush his chest on smoldering hot days. The rest was tucked into tight navy blue leggings with a sash of the same color tightly wrapped around his waist. He had pale skin with a natural pink tint to it, chocolate brown hair that looked reminiscent of clouds. Now that. That is a majestic man. After studying eachother in silence George cleared his throat to complete the purchase Dream had come there to make.  
“Is there a possible way to lower your price?”  
“No.”  
Dream flinched at the hard answer. The orange eyes that shot into him dulled with boredom.  
“Is there absolutely no way at all?”  
Georges head lolled to the side with his arms crossed.  
“I take that as a no.” Dream surrendered weakly  
“You’d be right.”  
He handed him the full payment and in turn was handed a small wooden trianglular guitar pick.  
“Thank you.”  
George looked around to see if anyone was looking at him then swiftly grabbed Dreams puffy jacket and pulled him down to whisper level.  
“Your soft words do not fool me. I see past you.”  
George let go with a bit of a shove.

Now Dream is sat on this bench. Fiddling with that same guitar pick. His sweet talking always worked. What was so different about this guy? Dream sat up and looked at the dull marketplace behind him, eyebrows furrowed as the interaction with this man troubled him.  
“I have to see him again.”  
Dream had no idea why he said this, especially why he said it out loud. His own voice comforted him since it was the only thing of any value he had.  
“I want to see him again.” 

The next day Dream woke up and stretched, body reeling from sleeping on a wooden bench for as long as he had. He rubbed his eyes and flipped his furry hood up over his face to keep his frost bitten ears warm. The cold burned. He’d been alone for so long now, so long since he felt the body heat of another like yesterday when George had pulled him close to tell him off. Part of him longs for that warmpth again. Now not from just anybody. From George. He had to see him again. He wanted someone who could tell him no. Someone who could refuse and not just bend so easily at his will. Yet he found it incredibly frustrating when the other man had not complied. Dream felt heat run to his face as he ran his fingers backwards through his hair.  
“A mess over a guy i only knew for twenty minutes.” He mocked himself.  
Turning around to see shop keepers opening. His eyes latched onto every brown haired figure in the crowd after concluding they weren’t George he would move onto the next and the next and the next until finally there he was. With the same stab in his glare as when they first locked eyes. Dream giggled and slunk around behind the other mans shop, sitting down and listening to George speak with other people. His body launguage was smooth, like a composer. His voice was cold. Not in the burning way. Like metal. Rare metal that Dream was willing to spend sleepless nights digging for. Dream pulled a hollyhock out of the ground. Tore of a peice of napkin he snatched from a restaurants tabel, and began scrawling in messy letters, a note. 

“Hello George. You probably remember me. I couldn’t get our interaction yesterday out of my head. You know how rare of an occurrence it is i get turned down? There’s something so very unique about you. I’d love to see you again sometime. Leave a note on the bench near the entrance of the marketplace if you’d like.”  
\- Dream

He folded the note and tied it shut with the hollyhock. At this point his confidence broke. His heart began to hammer in his ears and no matter how hard he tried to swallow the fear forming in his throat his face still flared to life. He shoved his face in his hands and tried to breath. This was so stupid. He was so stupid. You’re left alone for five years of your life and are tripping and stumbling over the first guy who acknowledges you as human. He remembered waving his family goodbye as he set out into the city where he planned to make a future.  
“Im gonna be rich!” He would tell them.  
He sat still. Note crumpled in hand. Tears welling in the corner of his eyes. He was a fool. He let big plans get under his feet like a rug. Then he slipped. Now here he is.  
A minute went past.  
“Rough day huh?”  
Dream shot up from the ground and was met with those familiar orange eyes.  
Speechless. For once in his life. His blabbering mouth was left speechless.  
George opened the back door to his small shop and ushered the dirty man inside. Dream stood awkwardly not knowing what to do with himself. This caused George to raise an eyebrow at him and gesture to a chair that was pushed under a table. Dream sat. It was warm. Being inside a building was not right for him. Dream still had the crushed hollyhock in his grasp but the note was long gone. He’d just have to use his words.  
“Hiding behind my shop is a bit creepy. Giving you pity because based on the fact i found you hunched over in tears i assume you have good reason.” He spat  
Dream winced at the insensitivity George spoke with.  
Guilt arose in Georges face.  
“Apologies. I will not pry you to give reason.”  
Dream smiled. A genuine smile. George’s dagger eyes simply softened in return.  
“I-I brought you something.”  
“So you did come here for me.”  
Dream flushed. That made George laugh. His laugh wasnt like his voice. His laugh was like music. Dream was the composer. Seeing George smile made Dream feel, good. He felt good. Dream remembered the flower. He handed it out to George. His soft hands lifted it carefully. His eyes shone. Dream noted this.  
“A hollyhock.” George grinned.  
“Means ambition.”  
“Exactly.”  
George set the crumpled flower in a book where it would be perserved. Then flipped to a page, flipped again, again, and pulled out a purple flower and handed it to Him.   
“That’s an Iris. Iris xiphium. It symbolizes Hope, cherished freindship, and valor.”  
Dream looked up at George. Green eyes locked in a pool of firey emotions. George touched Dreams hand.  
“You’re so cold.”  
“I havent been indoors for a long time.”  
George was so confusing. His voice was cold. His body was warm and his eyes were like frost bite. It didnt make since. That made Dream want to wrap himself in the feeling. The familiar feeling of not knowing everything but knowing so much. The feeling of people. 

The feeling of love.

**Author's Note:**

> YOOOO!!! you actually read this wtf uhrhrh hi my twitter is @swaggyope :) im an artist whos trying to pick up writing again so apologies if this is wonky bc im still learning<3 im dislexic so forgive any spelling mistakes oops


End file.
